


Meet You in Atascadero

by LT_Aldo_Raine



Series: The Way Things Should've Been [2]
Category: Godless (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Country & Western, F/M, Family, Love, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Reunions, True Love, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LT_Aldo_Raine/pseuds/LT_Aldo_Raine
Summary: Things went smoothly, quickly, like there was no other way—had never been another way—for things to be.OR: Roy writes to Alice and asks for her and the boy to join him by the ocean. So, she does.





	Meet You in Atascadero

**Author's Note:**

> I teased you all with this reunion scene nearly eight months ago. Shame on me.
> 
> Enjoy, fellow shippers. I hope it delivers.

Six months after Roy Goode sent that letter inviting Alice—asking, begging her—to join him by the sea, the Fletcher family arrived in Atascadero. 

They didn't get married.

Alice and the boy and that ole mean Granny settled in just fine with Roy in his new home, the one he had built himself by his own hands with only a little help from his older brother. Things went smoothly, quickly, like there was no other way—had never been another way—for things to be. 

In the evenings, the three of them—Alice, her boy and her man—went down to the water and played in the ocean. Sitting with her toes in the damp sand, Alice gazed out across the horizon and thought that Roy had been right. The roaring blue waters of the Pacific Ocean appeared to go on forever, unending in their grace and power.

The ocean made Alice feel small. 

True to his letter, Roy taught Truckee how to fish in that ocean. He and Jim would take Truckee and Jim's son, Roy, down to the beach for hours, laughing and playing and hunting in the surf. When darkness had fallen, the men would trek back up the sand dunes to their respective homes. Alice would cook the catch of the day, frying or grilling it in the skillet—and Truckee would beam as his family gathered around the table to eat the dinner he had provided for them.  

Roy also found Truckee work at the lumber yard where he and his brother, Jim, were employed. The boy thrived under the helm of his new responsibility, and though Alice had her reservations, after a few quiet conversations and gentle reassurances, she trusted that Roy would keep an eye on her boy when the men were away at the mill. Jim's wife, Eleanor, was pregnant with their second child; Iyovi spent her days with the swollen woman, helping her prepare for the impending arrival, blending all manner of herbs into elixirs for the health of both mother and child.      

Everyone in Atascadero had their part to play. Everyone, it seemed, except Alice. 

Alice was of no use to Eleanor as she planned for the birth of her newest babe. Iyovi, with her seemingly omniscient knowledge, had that situation under control. She said as much with a pointed look and an amused huff the one time Alice offered her assistance. Though Eleanor had politely smiled and instantly accepted Alice's proposal of aid, Alice had heeded Iyovi’s warning and steered clear of the other women, lest Truckee’s Granny whack the back of her hand with a spoon—an old habit Alice was not eager to revive. 

So, instead, she tended to their home. Alice's days were full of sewing, cutting and gathering fire wood, pulling weeds from the yard, laundering their clothes and beddings, shopping for goods like milk and butter in town, and cooking and washing up. She attempted to start a garden, but knew little of the soils of California, so different from those in New Mexico, and found that nothing she planted took to root. On occasion, she'd pull out a book, buried at the bottom of her trunk, to read for an hour or two. But no matter how many mindless tasks Alice could conjure for herself, the simple fact of the matter was that running a modest home was nothing like running an expansive farm. There merely wasn't enough work to be done. 

Alice began to lose her mind in the idleness. Though she had everything—the man, her boy, a home, freedom—Alice was not satisfied. 

Time passed. 

Roy had grown more boyish in California. Reuniting with his brother had allowed him to become overwhelmed by nostalgia, slipping back into his childhood ways. His smile shone more freely, his laugh sounding more often. He was not so tense or quiet. He was, it appeared, happy. This happiness was not reserved for Jim alone, but was shared with all those around him—his new sister-in-law, his nephew, and of course, Alice, Truckee, and even Granny. Those days, Roy's heart was so full of love and contentment that he thought he might burst from it. 

His joy, however, did not blind him to Alice's discomfort. 

The Fletcher family had been with Roy in Atascadero for four months when he finally approached her. 

Alice was hesitant to speak, so aware of the power her words held over his own happiness. She would not lie to him, but she had no desire to hurt him, either. "…I feel like a guest here. This home doesn't feel like mine."

"It is, though. It is." Roy stated this like a simple fact. 

The sky is blue. The sand is dry. This house is yours, Alice. 

"It doesn't feel like it." 

"What? You don't—you don't like it? 'Cause I can always-" He began to gesture the roof and walls, possible changes on the tip of his tongue. Already, he had thought of half-a-dozen minor adjustments he could make to the structure, if only to make it more to her liking. 

"I like the house just fine, Roy," Alice told him plainly. "Just feels like...like I'm living in someone else's life." 

Roy didn't have a response for that. 

That night when they went to bed, he did not reach for her, nor she for him. 

Two days later, Roy appeared in the doorway of their home around midday. He ought to have been at the lumber yard, but had told his superiors that he would take lunch at home that day. The man hovered in the entry, waited for Alice to take notice of his presence, then, after their eyes had made and understanding settle across her pleasant features, he cleared his throat and he told her, frankly, "Make it yours." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"The house... Paint it. Change it. Tear out a whole goddamn wall if ya have to. But make this a place where you can be happy. I-I want ya to be happy." Roy took his hat from his head, threw it carelessly on the table. He crossed to her and captured her hands in his own. "And if it ain't the house, if its me or the town or my brother, we can change all that, too." 

For so long, Alice had been the only thing standing between her family and certain death. She had physically worked the land, had protected her son and their lives from the bitter and superstitious population of La Belle, had been clever and frugal with her purchase of the horses and her strategic planning for their sale. For years, she had worked herself to the bone to provide for her boy. Now, there was no work to be done, but Alice found she could not simply revert back to being a lady of the house. 

She thought of her childhood in Boston, of her mother, a tall, elegant woman whose days were spent ordering about cooks and maids and other staff. She thought of her mother's skill on the piano and of her reading and sewing, of her dancing—her mother had been a fine dancer. But Alice did not dance and she did not play piano, and she had no desire to simply take up space in a room.

"I need to find work," she told Roy. Unsurprised and unfussed, he shrugged. "So go find it." 

Alice spent several days in town. She spoke with other women and with shopkeepers and with inn workers; she even spoke with the local law. When she finally returned to their house by the ocean, Truckee and Roy both liked to have fallen over with joy. 

"You're back!" Truckee had declared, racing to embrace his mother, beaming all the while. 

Roy maintained a touch more composure, brushing her cheek with his lips and a simple, "Welcome back." 

That night, as they lay in bed, sweaty and satisfied, her bare back pressed to his naked chest, Roy busied himself with dotting slow, lazy kisses to her hair and shoulder. His breath was hot, burning, against her slick skin. "Did'ja find it?" 

In the darkness, Alice smiled. "I did." 

"Well?" Roy prodded with a chuckle when she failed to elaborate. His arm tightened around her waist. Another kiss to her shoulder. 

"They're thinking about expanding the school. I...I thought I might like to help with that." 

Roy made a thoughtful noise. "Best teacher I ever had." 

And that was that.

Two months later, Jim’s and Eleanor’s baby was born. Elaine Lee Goode, a beautiful little girl with hazy blue eyes and dark ringlets, like her mother. Iyovi ensured a fine delivery of the healthy child, and saw to it that Eleanor recovered swiftly. When Roy held his niece for the first time, he cried.

"I'm sorry," Alice told him later. "-that I can't give you a child." 

"What're you talkin' about?" He gaze found Truckee. There was an unashamed, unbridled pride in his eyes, genuine affection resting on the lines of his mouth and forehead. To say that Roy loved her son would be to speak too plain. "Lord knows between that boy and his mean ole Granny, we got all that we can handle." 

Roy smiled at her, then, freely, honestly, and when he kissed her and told her that he loved her and the life that they now shared, Alice knew that everything would be okay. Because when Roy said he loved her and was happy, he meant it.  

 

 


End file.
